Summary:Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars. How can one not marvel at such beauty? It was a conundrum to her beyond knowledge how the Horse-lords could disregard the most beautiful things in the world, yet small or simple they may appear. Her task in aiding Theoden King to repel against the growing war may help her better understand them. NOT a tenth-walker. EomerxOC
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Tolkien's world. It all belongs to Tolkien's Estate. The only thing I claim to be mine is Duvaineth.
Author's Note:
I would like to give my most sincerest thanks to those who reviewed. It made my day to read your feedback and I take them to heart! Feel free to skip my 'thank you' if you wish! Thank you to:
Hobbitpony1
ZabuzasGirl
EverleighBain - You gave a very insightful feedback, along with adding what mistakes you saw and offered suggestions to fix it. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it and I appreciate it very much. I hope to receive more from you!
Mii3.1415926 - Thank you for your compliment! The quote in my summary is my most beloved quote in Tolkien's work. :)
cennadesuThank you so much for your words! I did not do this by myself; my beta-reader has helped me so much along the way. However, I do pay thorough attention to how I write and try my best to have it in the manner of Tolkien's writing. I do find that reading his work refreshes my mind and helps me have a better understanding of obtaining a simple and clear style.
cmfanreidsgirl - I am always happy to help another fellow writer, though I feel my ability would be small compared to what another could do.
Kat7CA - Thank you very much! I am not the type of author that wants to give everything away. I have learned it is best to keep the reader wondering, and it is with that knowledge I try to do so. Everything will be revealed within time. ;)
Alice-Ann Wonderland - The character is in Mordor and she is trying to escape. I apologize for the confusion!
MonicaClareS129
Tibblets
Reviews are loved. Constructive criticism is worshiped. Enjoy!
Scars
Chapter Two:
An Endless Haunt
Written By:
Aelienth
A leather bound book sat in her palms. Her eyes discreetly and slowly ran over the pages, her fingers light in touch and careful as she turned the page. The papers were worn and stained, and very delicate. Age has long affected the condition of the book, and some areas remained unclear to be read, causing her eyebrows knotting together in concentration. But a frown also sat upon her features. It spoke of a servant of evil, yet so absurdly it was written that she laughed. She wondered, however. Was there any truth to the book, and if there indeed was…does this servant still remain?
Why did she read this? Had her dreams so greatly disturbed her that she sought to read a book bound to only make them worse? Her nights were sleepless and were filled with many dark dreams. Dark memories. If she continued, she soon would be unable to even close her eyes. With a sigh, Duvaineth closed the book she held in her hands and returned it to its proper place on the bookshelf. Her eyes were attracted to the large window in the study, the illuminating light of the moon bright and alighting the room with a beautiful white light.
Duvaineth went to the window and gazed through the glass. Her eyes fell nowhere in particular, but she often looked at the rushing water of the falls in the far distance. She heard footsteps; they were quiet as though made with the intent not to disturb her, but she did not turn to meet the person. She knew who it was, and gladly welcomed their presence when they stood next to her. They said nothing, and neither did she for a moment. Finally she spoke, her eyes unmoving from the window, "Sleep remains far from me."
"Such has come to be a nightly custom," they answered, their tone giving away that they already knew her answer, and mayhap the true reason behind it.
"Come and go they do, but never from existence do they fade," Duvaineth said. "They are never far. When I close mine eyes, they return always darker than before, and so great grow they in their darkness that they would sully the earth. Life as we know it to be, but a memory carried to the graves of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth." She then tore her gaze from the window and looked at him. Sorrow drenched her eyes as the flow of a river, and despite her strong efforts to hide it, the heavy weight of weariness and trouble could not be latent. "And then I see the great flames of Evil consuming the world."
Duvaineth took a deep breath. She was quiet for some time, but at length she spoke again. "Forgive me, Lord Elrond. I know my dreams are dark and none too pleasant, and I am certain you would that you not hear in words that you have already seen, and worse."
But the Elf-lord smiled warmly. "When have you been known to dream of pleasantries? Your captivity was a trial long and painful to endure. Wise you are, but as a heavy shadow does the memory of your torments follow you. Is it such for all those who have faced such times, even my own people. But you must allow not the evil to consume your very heart, or naught will be left of you."
"Such befell me once," Duvaineth said darkly. "It shall not happen again."
"No, I believe it will not. You are of a greater strength," Elrond reassured with a smile. He rested a hand on her shoulder, a comforting touch that made vanish her fears. "I say to you, Duvaineth of Lindon, your heart is strong and your will stronger. Let not the dark vapors of your dreams cloud your mind, for you are there in the darkness no more. Sleep, and fear not."
Duvaineth bowed her head to him, a gesture the Elf-lord knew as a promise she would, or would attempt to, at the very least. "I think, Lord Elrond…." She smiled as she raised her head. "I am long overdue to seeing the world and its beauty."
"Do as you will. Your return, when you should choose to, will be welcomed and is looked upon with gladness. For you Imladris holds open her doors, for she is my home and to it I yet welcome you."
Despite the words of Elrond, sleep came not easily to Duvaineth. She tossed and turned and tried to make herself comfortable, but to no avail. The images of her dream were clear as the night, but they did not haunt her; instead, they merely lingered in her mind, and she spent a long while contemplating them, but it did not help her fall asleep any more than did staring at the ceiling. She tried pushing the thoughts away once or twice, but they would soon return, and she lied awake for many hours.
Duvaineth knew not when she fell asleep. Peace and relief washed over her as she slowly slipped into slumber, but the peace did not last long. The dream again returned, darker than before, and she felt entrapped in it. Darkness loomed over her, a heavy reminder of the shadow that followed her – taunting her, torturing her, and telling her she would never be free, and when she awoke in the morning she felt as if she had slept not at all. But she had managed to rest, though not well, and such was all she needed for her coming journey.
She packed very little, only the provisions she needed, and retrieved her weapons: her bow and quiver, a small number of daggers she hid within her garb, and her cloak. It was not often Duvaineth left the safety of Imladris and rode the plains, or hunt Orcs least of all. She loved the world as if it was her very soul, but in her heart was pure hatred for the darkness and death that had fallen upon Middle-earth and little encouraged her eyes to look upon the world. But it was her dream that had placed a heavy weight on her heart, and she desired nothing more than to put the servants of the Dark Lord to their deserving death.
And she would. She would make certain of it.
Duvaineth soon left the Last Homely House and stood in the stables, preparing her mare. She had bid farewell to Lord Elrond and the guests of his home whom she was very fond of. The Elf-lord had wished her well with a warm smile and a small sparkle in his eyes only she knew: he wished her peace. "Go with speed and watch where you tread, for danger lurks well concealed by which even the greatest traveler could be easily fooled," he had told her. His eyes then fell on the blood-red jewel lying on the hollow of her throat, and his eyes grew dark. "Be careful. Let your necklace come not to the sight of stranger nor enemy. You know who hunts you, and gladly would they have either your head or the necklace. Keep it hidden."
Unknowingly, her hand came to her necklace and gingerly fingered the stone, and immediately she retracted her hand when an unnatural coldness touched her fingertips. She dared not look at the necklace. Quickly, she stuffed it within her tunic and grabbed the reins to her horse, Gilroch, and mounted. "Tolo, melui nín, si nora-lim!" Duvaineth barely gestured for her horse to gallop – her words were enough of a gesture – and she bolted in a harsh gallop that nearly tossed her much unprepared rider from her saddle, who laughed at her eagerness.
Her horse bore her swiftly, and soon Duvaineth was nearing the path that would lead her out the valley. There, walking along the road into Imladris and standing in her way, was an old Man garbed in grey; from his pointed hat sitting on his head to the soft boots he wore, even his hair and long beard was grey, and in his hand was a staff. He stayed his walk when he saw Duvaineth galloping towards him, and he spoke, but she knew not what he said. Duvaineth abruptly pulled on the reins, shouting in Elvish to her horse, and barely came to a stop in time. The old Man laughed in delight at her, a bright shine of amusement in his eyes. Duvaineth's lips twitched into a smile. "It is unwise to stand in the way."
He raised an eyebrow at her, his smile never leaving his grandfatherly features. "It is unwise to challenge a Wizard."
"Only a fool would dare challenge a Wizard unless he stood assured he would win." The simplicity of her words was even more amusing, and his smile grew wider.
"And such is why, Duvaineth, Wizards have never been challenged!" he retorted.
Duvaineth laughed and smiled fondly at the Wizard, outstretching her arm towards him, to which he firmly yet gently grasped her forearm. "Mithrandir! It is wonderful to see you again, my old friend. But I am afraid you are a bit late to visit. I am departing from Imladris."
"Nonsense!" Gandalf said, leaning on his staff. "I knew you would be departing from Imladris. I wanted to come before you took your leave, and it appears I have done so in excellent timing!"
"No, indeed!" Duvaineth said. "Only Gandalf the Grey has precise timing, whether he is early or late."
"A Wizard is never late! Nor is he ever early. He arrives precisely when he means to," Gandalf rebutted. There was a short pause. His face softened, as did his eyes, and there was a certain look in them that Duvaineth knew all too well, and she knew what was coming. "Only comes he early when he is concerned," he added in a softer tone.
Duvaineth gingerly spoke in slight jest in the hope to raise the Wizard's spirits. However, she knew if it concerned Gandalf the Grey, then it was heavy on his shoulders, and such it was meant to be taken with all sincerity. "I am favored plenty by the Grey Wizard to be thought of. What is it, my friend? Tell me."
Gandalf drew closer to her, tenderly rubbing her mare's nose as he did, and laid a firm hand on her shoulder. "I have a message for you. It has not yet come to pass but will, and when it does I urge you to heed my words greatly, and think not of them carelessly." His voice was deep yet quiet, as if he was speaking so out of fear he would be heard by others. The deep frown darkening his features told her his words should not be taken lightly. Upon Duvaineth's nod, the Wizard continued. "When grows darker the Shadow, when becomes quiet the world and little hangs in the air…return to Imladris, and seek me."
Duvaineth frowned. Gandalf was a wise person, wiser than she hoped to be, and he could see things that even her Elven eyes could not. She often held counsel with him and she had quickly learned to trust his words, no matter how the odds might seem. Whenever she received warning from him, she heeded them. His words dismayed her, even more so to hear of the Shadow of Mordor. Glancing at the relaxing look on his face, Duvaineth saw he was pleased to see that she was deeply concerned. "I little understand, Gandalf," Duvaineth said softly. "You speak these words and of the Shadow of Evil, but you mean to say more to me."
But Gandalf did not answer her. He merely smiled at her and placed his fingers on the stone of her pendant that had fallen out of her tunic into exposure, and unbeknown to her, he casted a spell on it. "You are no riddle-master, but in time will you see the meaning of my words. So take them not lightly, Duvaineth. We will not see each other for some time, but when comes the time for your return to Imladris…do so with all the haste you can manage."
His words chilled her heart, but the gentle squeeze of his hand on her shoulder brought warmth to her body. Duvaineth nodded rigidly and gathered the reins in her hands, her eyes fixed firmly ahead. She was about to chirrup her horse into a gallop when the Wizard spoke again, stopping her. "Keep it hidden." Gandalf stepped back and smiled at her, offering a slight nod. "Farewell, Duvaineth."
"Farewell, my friend," Duvaineth said softly, and chirruped loudly to her horse. Gilroch burst into a gallop, and soon the shining beauty of the Last Homely House was gone from her sight.
Duvaineth rode all through the day, with the small exception of a meal and some rest for the sake of her horse. Although she did not have a course set in mind and simply rode where the wind blew, Gilroch had a course set in her own. She rode in the direction commanded by her mistress, but she took her far south from the Trollshaws, and nearby the Mitheithel River. The scenery around Duvaineth had changed; there were more patches of grass, though not green and in great need of water. Dust followed her trail as her horse rode swiftly over the plains, and in the near distance she saw the shimmering, flowing waters of the Mitheithel. It was a beautiful sight, though small it was; it had been long since Duvaineth had traversed the plains of Middle-earth, and she had dearly missed it.
Night soon showed signs of shadowing the world in its darkness, and Duvaineth quickly sought a safe place to make camp. Amid the grassy plains, she found a spot nearby the river. Its flowing water was gentle and quiet, and a tall tree stood nearby, providing shelter. Gilroch was not so willing, much to the amusement of her rider. Duvaineth had spent several years in Imladris, not once looking towards the valley where the world lied beyond. But Gilroch had; several years without roaming the lands was too long for her, and she was greatly eager to explore the world once more. But finally she complied. Duvaineth dismounted and made a small fire, and as the fire burned she tended to her mare, undoubtedly weary and famished from the long hours of bearing her mistress. After Gilroch was tended to and fed, Duvaineth returned to her fire and ate her own small meal; a slice of bread and an apple.
After she had her filling, Duvaineth leaned into the broad bark of the tree. Her eyes lifted to the sky and marveled at the crystalline beauty that was the stars. It was a sight that had been seen many a time before in Imladris, but in the open plains there was a certainly beauty to it that could not be explained. As memorized by the night-sky as she was, Duvaineth's attention soon fell away from it and onto the cold pressure of a stone lying on her chest underneath her tunic. Slipping her hand in her shirt, Duvaineth withdrew her pendant from its hiding spot and held it in her hand. Gazing upon the pendant filled her with relief and warmth, but also dread.
It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, one that a king could not deny his queen. The jewel lay in the center, blood red and shining brightly as if it were the moon itself, held by many silver wires and formed in the shape of a dragon's eye. But what gathered her attention was the red stone. Deep within the stone, what only Duvaineth herself could see, was a tinge of black. It swirled about within the stone like a wandering soul. It gave her a cold shiver, dark and unwanted and its touch like ice.
Duvaineth could no longer look at it, her heart heavy with a shadow looming over her. She stuffed the pendant into her tunic and closed her eyes as relief fell over her, and it was no more. The heaviness on her heart faded, and so did the dread she had felt, but when she tried to sleep she could not. Duvaineth tossed and turned for an hour in what was a hopeless attempt to fall into slumber, and it was not well into the night. Only a couple of hours before dawn did she manage to fall asleep. It was no dreamless slumber either. Dreams came of taunts and misery, and a dark menace veiled by the darkness.
When Duvaineth awoke with a start, she saw that dawn had already arrived, and the sun was slowly rising above the horizon and giving life to a new day. Doubtful she would be able to slip back into slumber, or even sleep peacefully if she did, Duvaineth rose and tended to Gilroch and herself before preparing the continuance of her journey. In less than five minutes, Duvaineth was galloping away into the breaking dawn. Gilroch eagerly bore her mistress, but this time, it was Duvaineth who was eager to return to her travels. The memories of her dream still burned harshly in her mind. But even so, she found herself feeling wearier than she had last night, and the sleep beckoning her so enticingly.
Duvaineth forced herself to stay awake, but such only worked for a short time. Somehow, she had laid her head upon her horse's neck, simply watching the scenery pass. A part of her did not want to fall asleep in fear that the dreams would return, but another part of her cried out desperately for sleep. She was unable to resist, and soon her eyes softly closed. For the first time in a very long time, Duvaineth slept a dreamless slumber.
